The delicate art of cooking
by HoplessAndWandering
Summary: Things were not looking up for one Harry James Potter. First he was forced to spend his last two years as a minor with his most hated professor,then he was pulled out of the cooking competition for being deemed unqualified, Now stuck in a rundown neighborhood with an anorexic Snape is not going to be easy at all. not slash. adoption fic.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one. Melted butterscotch.

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A/N; warnings for; anorexia, cruel Snape, and language, ignorant Remus and dealing with depression. i'm going to be honest folks, as much as i love cooking i'm a disaster waiting to happen in the kitchen.I don't own any of the recipes, or the is much shorter than my other works but a nice stress reliever.

read)

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"Harry, my boy!" the jovial man excited, spreading his arms. Harry nodded politely, pulling his trunk after him in the circular office.

"Sir." he looked at the portraits, half missing and the other half sleeping, it was a depressing sight, because the sleeping portraits looked like they were dead.

"I believe everything went as expected?" Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster asked kindly, extending his hand from his pocket he gestured at Harry.

"Sherbet Lemon Harry?" Harry declined politely and settled down on a antique chair settled across the desk, the tall brute man standing behind him. Blue eyes and freckled face, with his red hair pulled in a ponytail behind his back, Bill,Weasley was at the peak of his life, as of now he was one of Harry's advance Guards, escorting the boy to Albus's office as earlier planned.

"You'll be fine on your own?" He asked the raven haired boy, even though the boy was already fifteen, Bill and Charlie both felt extremely protective of him since they had met him when he was twelve.

Harry smiled slightly and nodded his head. "I will, thank you Bill." he shook the curse breakers hand and smiled softly.

Bill nodded at Albus again before departing by the floo, shouting out 'the burrow!' loudly before disappearing in a whisk of flames.

"Has Bill told you anything? About your current situation Harry?" Dumbledore settled down on his own chair, popping another lemon drop in his mouth.

The teenager nodded curtly. "Yes sir, he explained everything."

Albus eyed the boy warily. "And what do you think?" his baby blue eyes were twinkling madly and he was hiding a huge grin behind his long lengthy grey beard. Harry shook his head, fumbling with the small plastic bird like key chain. "I'm not sure. Not really, if you could..."

Albus nodded, smiling widely. "Harry, first you have to understand that this is the best solution the order could come up with, as you know Voldemort is getting more powerful as each day passes and the blood wards might not be enough anymore."

The old man snapped his fingers, a small plate of pastries appearing on bis desk. He was aware of Harry's sweet tooth, had heard from the sugar rushes the boy had from the order members and knew that if the boy who lived had any weaknesses, it would be sweets.

Harry eyed the plate warily, he would not take that pastry, he was on a diet. You're on a diet! He thought desperately.

"Do you want to try one?" Harry could swore the man was laughing at him when he couldn't take his eyes off the plate, those delicious looking scones and butterscotches just sitting there on that plate, waiting to be tasted by Harry, he would kill for the secret recipe, he had been trying to get out of the house elves for a while. What made those scones so perfect and delicious, or what made the butterscotches taste so crunchy but soft at the same time. Just one, he pleaded, wrestling with his self will.

Just a fingertip...you're on diet! He whimpered, looking away.

"I can't." he answered the headmaster, looking ready to cry. Albus laughed, shaking his head.

"Whatever happens in this room, stays here Harry. Feel free to eat as your heart desires."

Harry felt like he was being bribed, but he couldn't focus, his entirety was focused on those scones, oh how much he wanted one right now...

"I can't." yes you can, just take one. Where's your Gryffindor courage?

You're on a diet Potter! Get a hold of yourself!

Albus heaved a regrettable sigh and snapped his fingers again, the plate disappearing with a loud clank. "Alas, that was our best made scones, with fresh butter and milk."

"Fresh?!" Harry looked ready to melt, why hadn't he taken it? Damn you Potter, damn you!

Dumbledore, chuckled, seeing the devastated look in the boy's eyes. "Moving on, I believe this temporary arrangements will be good for the both of you Harry, Spinners end is more secure than here or the burrow at any rate and you shouldn't worry at all when you have Professor Snape with you."

"Good for whom exactly Professor? We'll both be dead by the end of the week if left alone for too long." Harry grumbled, spinning the key chain in his palm, the motion calmed his super hyper nerves.

The headmaster laughed once again, stroking his beard. "No Harry, but believe me when I say, both of you could use each other, Severus might be a little stubborn, but I'm sure you get through him."

Harry grunted, he absolutely /hated/ this turn of events, just last week, he was at the burrow longing on Ron's bed, or helping Molly in the kitchen, life was good. But now... He was being shipped off to live with Snape, to who knows where for who knows how long, being cut off from the rest of the world without nay means of communication or human exhibition for at least twenty miles away. Well, aside from Snape, but he really didn't count /him/ as a human being. More like a giant bat. He thought snarkly.

"Now there Harry, be reasonable, Professor Snape has accepted to take over your guardianship until you're of age. You should be grateful." he scolded the sour teenager softly, watching the inner conflict with interest.

Harry heaved another sigh. "Yes sir, but are you absolutely sure.."

"Yes Harry I'm sure." he said firmly. "I'm afraid there is no way out of this one."

Harry sighed in defeat, he didn't look forward to living with Snape at all.

"How did he even accept this arrangement? He hates me!" this was the only question really bugging Harry for a while. They both hated each other, that emotion was certainly mutual, he hated Harry and Harry hated him back out of spite.

There was no questioning it, it was just the way things were. What changed that?

"I believe that is the question we both want to be answered my boy." Albus drawled in amusement. He sighed and stood up, gesturing Harry closed. The shorter boy scrambled to his feet.

"Sir, just be to be sure, I can't send or receive any owls, right?" his tone was laced with dread, he couldn't even imagine himself locked up with Snape in a rundown house with no means of communication, completely secluded. Once again fate was messing with him. They had an interesting relationship, he and fate, she just insisted to kick him in the face again and again when he thought nothing else could go wrong. And he just kept getting kicked without giving any blows.

"Yes Harry, but don't worry, I'm sure your friends will be delighted to send your packages through Dobby. Whenever required." he added silently, putting his hand solidly on Harry's shoulder.

"I have a portkey waiting for us in three minutes Harry, be prepared." Harry did so, by clasping his hand around the truck's handle, he stuffed his key chain back in his back pocket, and made sure that he still had his wand.

"Can I communicate with you sir?" He asked suddenly, he wondered how long it took Snape to throw him out of the house, or floo Dumbledore to come and retrieve his golden boy. Or better yet, kill him in his sleep. Harry shuddered, he had to lock his room. He decided, one never knew if his potion Processor had homicide urges.

"...Harry? "Albus called him, waving his hand in front of his green eyes. Harry blinked owlishly, snapping out of his stupor.

"Excuse me?"

"I said do you have everything you need?" Harry nodded distractingly, looking around the office for the last time for who knew how long.

"Sir you didn't answer my question." he said suddenly, looking at Dumbledore. Albus sighed and grabbed the portkey, Harry hurried after the man and grabbed the edge of the cooking magazine. What a irony, he thought slyly.

"Just tell Severus Harry." the old man winked before Harry felt a sickening pull behind his navel, feeling as if his guts were in his throat and his heart was beating next to his brain, the couple whirled in a mash of colors, spinning madly.

Harry let go of the portkey just in time to crash against the cobblestoned street, groaning as he felt his trunk dropping on his side with a loud crash. Ouch, he winced, cursing under his breath.

Harry climbed to his feet slowly, wincing as his hip protested. That's going to bruise, he thought before looking around, feeling his mouth go dry all of a sudden. Spinners end was exactly the way Harry had expected it to be, grim. Even the air was heavier and more humid, the street was narrow and he could smell trash even from where he stood. He looked around the deserted street. More like an alley. He thought, awful neighborhood, and dogs barking. Great, he thought sarcastically, exactly his image of a perfect home.

"Shall we Harry?" the old man didn't wait for him to answer, instead he took off to one of the houses far off the narrow cobblestoned alley. Harry shuddered, biting his lips self consciously before following after the headmaster.

Every ounce of self doubt and dread was back, this place looks like a dump. He thought to himself, wincing inwardly. Lock the front door and your bedroom and lock the windows Potter, maybe he should keep a kitchen knife with him. Just in case. Harry trailed after the strolling man, who seemed oddly out of place in his bright purple robes and his waist length beard, popping sweets in his mouth and strolling as if he was in a park.

Crazy, all of them. Harry thought, shaking his head. What would Sirius say? Seeing me like this? Harry had no idea since the man was currently in Belgium with Remus, doing merlin knew what, probably on a mission. He knew that Sirius rather let Harry die than let him spend his time here, living with 'snivelous '. They reached a dingy porch, and an unhinged gate standing awry and a little bit rusted. Harry sighed warily, this place was safe? Harry's cupboard had more bolts on it than the gate.

"Come Harry." Albus called, already at the door. Harry followed hesitantly, not quite sure why he had agree to this. Because you had no choice. His mind snapped back at him. Oh, now I remember, Harry rolled his eyes.

Yes, he did remember the headmaster flooing in yesterday, while Harry and the Weasleys were enjoying a good beef stroganoff made by Harry and a particularly good chocolate pudding, also made by Harry as a celebration, and then Dumbledore just had to barge in right then. Right as Harry was about to eat his first spoonful. The only desert he was allowed to have for the week.

Stupid old coot. Harry frowned darkly, dragging his trunk past the gate, careful not to hit it to the gate, it looked ready to fall off already. Harry didn't need Snape down his throat the moment he got there.

The door, not so surprisingly was open, honestly the whole house looked deserted. Harry followed Dumbledore swiftly, once again making sure to pick up a kitchen knife as soon as he unpacked.

Dumbledore walked down the grim filled hallway and into the house, Harry left his trunk by the door and followed the man hastily. He looked around the empty walls. Nothing, no pictures, no wallpaper, no cobwebs. Grey walls.

It's just two years Harry. Two years from now on, you will be an adult. He had started counting down his seconds from then. He entered what seemed to be a living room, covered in books, stacks here and there, the three shelves lining the wall all full to the brim, and a worn red velvet armchair resting next to the fireplace. Just 365 days Harry until your next birthday. No big deal. Album looked around the house and turned on his feet, facing Harry.

"Well then Harry, I'm sure Severus is down in his labs. I wouldn't bother him if I were you, get settled in and I wish you a great holiday, goodbye." he put a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, squeezing it. Harry opened his mouth to protest but the headmaster was already out of the door, the front door clicking softly with a snap. Harry sighed, not believing what just had happened, Dumbledore just left him! Like this, with Snape nowhere in sight.

What was wrong with this people? Harry hadn't had the foggiest that what he was supposed to do, and he had no entire to get caught snooping around the potion master's house, so he walked down to the armchair and sank down.

Better wait for Snape to stalk in. Dumbledore was right, there was no point in bother the bat in his labs.

He looked around the house again, honestly he expected Snape to sleep in coffins, or live in dungeons all year round. But this didn't raise his expectations at all. The house was clean, there was no denying that. But everything was so... Out of place ad old, ancient even. Rather Snape_ish actually. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes morphed into a whole hour before Harry was snapped out of his thoughts. Still, no Snape in sight. This is ridiculous, Harry thought, if this is going to be my house for two years then why am I fretting here like this?

He stood up determinedly, going to retrieve his trunk from the Hallway, if Snape was going to ignore him then Harry was going to do the same, he had no problem pretending that Snape didn't exist.

The young boy nodded to himself and ventured the house, the trunk on his tail wherever he went. The first room was next to the living room, linked with a glass door Harry hadn't noticed before, leading to another room, slightly more furnished, so Harry supposed it was the drawing room. Still, no photographs or any paintings in sight, not even a knick knack, just books, tones of books scattered here and there.

Again furnished in dark colors, the two coaches and the loveseat were all done in a boring shade of brown and the dark red curtains hung loosely from the ceiling, faded over time.

The floor creaked under his weight as the boy slowly made his way out of the rooms and further down the hallway.

It turned out to be the kitchen, a modest size kitchen with grey tiles and battered cabinets, a dingy stove and an old fridge stuffed together in a small kitchen. The teenager sighed. He normally didn't work in kitchens like this, aunt Petunia's kitchen was big and modern, the Weasleys kitchen was at least clean and comfy. This place looked like a dump, to put it lightly. He couldn't work in this place Harry decided. If Snape was going to cook the meals that was his problem, but if Harry had any say in it...

He left the trunk lingering at the door and went over to the sink, opening the tap. He sighed in relief when the water was clear. The last thing he needed was inedible water.

This place needs cleaning, Harry mused, a serious cleaning. He wondered if Snape left it like this on purpose. A note caught his eyes, lying on the wooden table, untouched with a stack of muggle money set on the paper. Harry looked around and picked up the note, he unfolded the paper.

Don't get in my way, don't make loud noises, don't be out of the house without permission and don't come down into my labs, keep the room clean and don't use all of the hot water. The money is for groceries, don't waste it. Upstairs first room on the left. I expect your summer essays lying on this table from this moment on each afternoon, and absolutely no flying in or out of the house. Do not make me angry. Or you'll face the consequences. S. Snape

Harry reread the note and then awkwardly put it down on the table, only Snape could make him feel all shaky in a note, he still sounded like a terrifying git even on a paper.

He let his breath slowly and took the money, wondering if he should leave for groceries now to get some air. But thought against it, it was too early in the morning, he would go for a grocery soon anyways.

Regrettably the young boy dragged his trunk up the flight of stairs, as quietly as possible so he wouldn't alert Snape. If the man was so set on ignoring that Harry even existed, then why did he accepted this arrangements in the first place? Was he getting paid or something? Or perhaps his job was on the line?

First door on the left. Harry turned the knob anxiously and stepped back, watching the door creak open. Snape hadn't even entered the room, it seemed in ages, the room was dust free like the rest of the house. But the furniture... The room was modest, definitely bigger than his own bedroom at the Dursleys and a tad smaller than Ron's room, wooden floor, small paned window with no curtain and a battered dresser topped with a old and worn out and ancient bed with Grey comforters was the sight that met Harry as he stepped in the room.

Harry sighed, pulling the trunk behind him, he was really lucky that he had brought his own comforter, well technically it was Hermione's hundred piece quilt, but who cared? Hermione was a too busy with Ron and her studies to worry about a quilt. Harry unpacked quickly, his stomach was growling, he didn't have any breakfast and he had skipped lunch to wander around and look for Snape. The mere thought of cooking in that battered kitchen made his guts churn, but Harry didn't let it get to him.

The kitchen was empty, in fact, it was the way Harry had left it in the first place, with note and money still sitting on the table and the chairs still scattered. Not realizing that he was holding his breath, Harry opened the fridge, only to be met by its emptiness. Nothing was in the fridge, nothing even as simple as eggs or milk. Harry worried his lip and closed the fridge. The boy wandered off to the cabinets checking every drawer or cupboard, trying to find something edible. Even the plates looked unwashed for quite some time, Harry mused, trying to keep his rising panic at hay.

By now his stomach was throwing a fit, growling and demanding food. Harry sighed as he found nothing and picked up the money, turned out I have to go to the grocery store sooner than I realized, he thought. Harry had mixed feelings about this, on one hand grocery shopping was one of his favorite parts of cooking, but on the other hand Snape said to not to leave the house.

It's his own fault anyway, leaving me in this damn house with nothing to survive with, Harry thought angrily but decided to leave a note in case Snape decided to show up.

He threw his clothes on quickly, making sure to grab a light sweater just in case it got cold, and got out of the house. After looking around the neighborhood, the teenage boy took off with his hands deep in his pockets, mindlessly twirling the key chain in his palm.

He had no idea how to deal with this new situation. He was expected to live with Professor Snape for two years until he got of age, apparently because the Dursleys have unexpectedly moved out of their house and the wards have fallen. Seeing as the Weasleys, and Dumbledore were both obvious choices and it wasn't quite as safe, Snape of all people has agreed to take him in. At first Harry flat out refused, he'd rather die than spend more than three hours with Snape, much less /live/ with him.

And in a place like this... He mused, looking around, he could just imagine aunt Petunia sneering in disgust and uncle Vernon sputtering in indignation. But on the other hand, he had to do this, he couldn't let anyone else getting hurt because of him, the mere thought of losing his family the way he has lost Sirius and Cedric was unbearable.

Sirius. He exhaled slowly, looking around for a local store, he couldn't think about it. A whole month after the incident, and he couldn't even thing about the man's name. And Remus, gazing at him with those disappointed hazel eyes, barely containing himself from blaming Harry for what had happened. They all did, to some extent, even Molly was angry at him for a while, but they never said anything, Sirius's death seemed like punishment enough, so instead of tongue lashings and glares Molly and Arthur took him in after the school term ended.

Until Professor Dumbledore came along. Harry squinted his green eyes behind his glasses, gazing at a small dingy store with flickering lights. Oh well, the boy shrugged and quickened his pace. Better this than nothing he supposed. Harry huffed, and bit his lip, looking up at the grey sky.

Things will never be the same again. He thought before striding towards the shop.

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review please ;)


	2. Chapter2 Shrimp, leek, and Spanish past

Chapter two. Shrimp, leek, and Spanish pasta.

Harry had to admit, the store looked bigger than he thought, as he entered the shop he felt the warmth over took his unusually flushed cheeks, spinner's end was oddly cold for this time of year. It was summer after all. He shuddered.

The store was empty, with only an old woman sitting behind the counter, knitting , and humming in a disoriented tune, it oddly reminded Harry of a horror movie, but he shrugged the scene off and rubbed his palms together.

He smiled politely when the woman looked at him and grabbed a basket quickly, running possible recipes in his mind as he wandered around the aisles. Maybe something quick and tasty...

Before thinking about recipes, he should perhaps get some cleaning equipment, the house looked filthy, and Harry out right refused to work in a kitchen like that. Even if it was for himself. He huffed, and grabbed a pair of kitchen gloves, (he would need it for doing the dishes anyway) and put them in the basket. He then pondered over the familiar dish detergent marks aunt Petunia often used, and after some thinking grabbed the best, he knew which cleaned better by experience. As the Dursleys unofficial Servant he knew a lot of things that a normal fifteen year old, almost sixteen year old, shouldn't. Not that he got any credit for any of his works, that was aunt Petunias job. He thought bitterly, shaking his head.

The woman's humming got on his nerves, seeing as the store wasn't that big, and she was singing rather loudly, the eerie feeling settled in Harry's chest uncomfortably as he went through his head. A bad neighborhood with cracked pot people, how very... Snape_ish.

He just had to start with the basics, he thought as a way to distract himself, picking up some bread, followed by olive oil and some basic spices. He had no idea how much would it cost, all of the ingredients and the cleaning equipment, but he absolutely hated empty kitchens, he would just pay Snape back if he made a fuss about it. He picked up butter and eggs next, knowing that cooking would be fairly impossible without the two ingredients.

He then went to the vegetables and fruit area, all smashed together, lined against the wall, and not wrapped in any kind of containers he was rather used to back at home. They looked fresh enough so Harry just kneeled down to examine them closer.

To Harry's utter surprise, the vegetables /were/ fresh, he smiled, happily smelling the leeks. He put a decent amount in his basket and then went for the spinach, he already knew what he was going to make tonight, and his stomach seemed quite content with the idea.

The raven haired boy didn't notice the old woman watching him enthusiastically picking up and sniffing vegetables, smiling as he put them in his basket. The old woman smiled, her face wrinkled and her grin mostly toothless.

The grin increased as she saw him murmur under his breath, picking up a package of shrimps. He was probably new. The woman thought and picked up her humming.

Harry felt eyes burning on the back of his neck, but didn't say anything, he was nearly finished anyway, and it wouldn't do any good if he just gave a bad first impression, he was going to live here for two years after all. A very long two years, it already seemed like.

His skin seemed overly pale and clammy under the fluorescent lights, flickering every now and then, and the hunger was really getting to him. He yet had to get to spices, his favorite part. But the hunger won over, sighing sadly the green eyed boy made his way to the counter, a full basket in his hands.

"Good evening."

"Why hello young man! you look new." she exclaimed, putting her knitting needles away. Harry smiled politely, tight lipped and a little awkward as he pushed the basket over the desk.

"Yes I am, ma'am."

"And what a gentleman! When did you move in?" she looked genuinely interested in what he had to say. Harry stuttered. Should he tell her anything?

"I.. Um, I just moved in. With Professor Snape, ma'am ." he felt the need to explain it to her apparently, he had no idea why he seemed frightened earlier, the woman looked fairly harmless up close. And kind, he thought.

"Professor Snape?! Good gracious! I had no idea he had a son!" the woman said incredulously, putting Harry's groceries in plastic bags swiftly. Harry felt his mouth drop open, and his eyes bulge.

"Uh...No! I... I mean... I'm not..his... He's not.. My father." he finished lamely, cramming his hand in his pocket to get the money, his cheeks flushed in shame.

"Oh, he's your uncle then?" the woman asked curiously, grinning at him. Harry bit the inside of his cheek, hard.

"No, I'm... His student, I'll be staying with him for a while." Harry twiddled with hem of his shirt, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Are you his apprentice? I thought he was in chemistry?" she frowned in confusion.

Harry pursed his lips, breathing deeply. "No. I'm not a chemistry student."

"Oh I figured though, you look like a cook." she handed him the plastics and bent over her calculator. Harry thought this was odd, but didn't say anything. He shifted on his foot, and grabbed the plastics out of boredom.

The money Snape had put out for him earlier was generous enough, and Harry even managed to save some as he paid. He nodded as the old woman bid him a good day and got out of the store. He had no idea what the time was, but his stomach was getting impatient, Harry half walked, half jogged his way back to the house, before he realized that he didn't have a key.

He paused. Great, just great. He thought sarcastically, but pushed past the gate. If he was lucky, perhaps Snape had shown enough mercy to leave the door open for him.

Snape hadn't even got out of his labs it seemed, the house was pretty much the same as Harry had left it earlier. Heaving a sigh, the boy who lived, put the groceries on the table and shrugged off his sweater.

He pushed up his sleeves and sorted out the cleaning equipment before getting to the groceries.

All went straight to the cupboard under the sink, he would've started cleaning tonight, but he was way too hungry to wait and it seemed rather late anyways, thankfully the fridge seemed clean enough, so Harry put the food after cleaning them with a wet rag. He didn't know if it was his obsession, or aunt Petunia drilling it in his mind for years, but he couldn't put anything in the fridge without cleaning it first, it was a good habit he supposed, to be clean, but a little over the top in his opinion.

Now... To make some pasta... Harry smiled and cracked his fingers, immediately going to his cooking mode. He danced around the kitchen, taking out pots and pans and setting them other stove, working swiftly and rhythmically, he took out a sharp looking knife out of the drawer and started cutting the ingredients expertly.

Ever since he was four Harry was forced into cooking for his relatives, even though he couldn't even reach the stove or the sink, the kitchen was his responsibility, Harry had numerous burns on the palm of his hands, to prove how many times he had burned Uncle Vernon's breakfast, or countless white little scars on his fingers that indicated each time he cut his fingers with a knife. After a while, cooking came to him like second nature. Something he did as easily as he breathed, the kitchen became his safe haven after the cupboard. No one bothered him there, even Petunia didn't spend time in the kitchen when he was in there cooking, when the storm hit, Vernon wouldn't dare to throw him out of the house like he usually did, when he was in the kitchen.

Harry sighed, chopping the leeks with his eyes semi closed. Life was hard on him lately. He had lost Sirius just months ago, his passion for cooking was the only thing keeping him intact. Until now that he was forced to live here.

Harry set his knife down and peered over the boiling pot. Yup, he thought, time to add the shells.

He added a spoonful salt to the water and then carefully emptied the shells in the pot, leaving them to boil.

This recipe was one of his favorites, it was quick and delicious, and despite other foods similar to this one, it didn't mess up with his appetite. Ever since he lived with Weaselys since Sirius went on missions, there wasn't really the time to express himself, to let go of his burden by losing himself in cooking. Molly was there, her kitchen was off limits for him and he knew that. And she was still mad at him for endangering both his son and youngest daughter, almost killing them in his wild goose chase.

Harry didn't dare to insult her by offering his help, or looking into her eyes for quite some time. So cooking again, cooking like /this /, all by himself in solitude. It was comforting, beautifully familiar. Harry relaxed in his slow and peaceful pace, cleaning the shrimps and stirring the spinach on the stove, he thought maybe he should do a desert to celebrate, and to make up for his lost butterscotch at Dumbledore's office, but thought against it again.

Pomfrey would know if he was sugar high, and would undoubtedly scold him for it. It didn't worth it though.

His diet was certainly a complicated one, first of all it wasn't for his weight. In fact, it was to help him, gain weight, at least enough to match his height. But eating too many sweets turned out to be the wrong thing to do, it took Pomfrey two hours to get him out of his sugar hyper mania. From then on, it was decided, that for Harry's own health, and the other's safety that Harry only had limited access to any kinds of sweets or sugar.

What a ridiculous notion, Harry mused. Cutting out the shrimp's head and detaching its legs swiftly. The heavy smell of butter and fried spinach over powered the heavy odor of dust resting in the kitchen. Harry cleaned the shrimps one by one and washed them again.

Would Snape like his cooking? Or would he make fun of him like he had in potions? Harry might let the man attack him with his harsh words in his classes, but this was different. The man was his guardian now, it meant that Severus Snape could do anything he wanted with Harry. And Harry sure as hell would not just sit there and let the man spit out abuse.

Thankfully, or not, Dumbledore had promised to visit him time to time, and the Weasleys would most likely notice if he didn't show up when the school, started again. He hoped.

Harry stirred the spinach and added the shrimps, he stirred them for a while before taking sieve out of the cupboard.

After finishing up the pasta Harry went for the sauce, stirred the frying pan, and added the leeks.

His mouth was watering with the scent and his stomach was grunting for food. Harry spared himself and picked up a shrimp before popping it in his mouth. His mouth burned with scalding hot sea food in his mouth but he gave it no mind and chewed.

He was so lost in his cooking that he didn't notice a dark figure stalking by the door, Harry hummed under his breath, tapping his foot and stirring the food mindlessly.

Severus felt the nauseating scent of food assault his nostrils and paused by the doorway. He wrinkled his nose, pulling a face. Was that Potter in the kitchen?! He stalked to the door, looking at the silhouette dancing and humming, stirring something on the stove.

He immediately felt the hate rushing in his veins, arrogant, and dimwitted! an imbecile! That's what Potter was. Idiotic and halfwitted, just like his swine of a father. Severus sneered, and turned around. He would most certainly not, enter that kitchen with that awful smell, or with Potter in it. He could take another nutrition potion for tonight.

He didn't think that he would mind Potter's presence in his home that much, he was in his labs all day, and he was positive that Potter would do anything to stay out of his way. Now however, with that smell, and the full kitchen, or with Potter's door ajar upstairs. Severus found that he /did/ in fact mind it. Not here for even three hours and that brat was roaming around the house as if he owned it. Severus snarled, slamming his door shut. Damn Potter!

Just like his father, Severus thought with disdain and flicked his wand, casting an air conditioning spell in his room. The smell of food was everywhere. And Severus sure as hell couldn't concentrate with Potter making a racket in the kitchen all night.

He flexed his hands and started undoing his robes buttons one by one ; today had been long, exhausting, and as boring as it was yesterday, or the day before that. He had nothing to do anyways, aside from making potions and reading books, which now he couldn't do with Potter all over his house. He would just have to lock himself in his lab all day to avoid the brat. The only thing he /was/ thankful for, was Potter's ability to look after himself, because Severus sure as hell would have not cooked for the boy, or done his laundry.

With a depressed sigh, the potion master picked up his potion journal and made an entry. He was working on an improved version of the nutrients potion for a few months, trying to improve it so the user could last a whole week without food, only with one dose. It deemed to be difficult, even for someone as talented as Severus. He had to complete the potion however, because more than anyone, this potion was for himself.

In his line of work, spying and potion making alike, food was not a necessity, it was often a privilege.

A privilege that Severus was deprived of while working under the dark Lord for years, and then switching to brewing potions. It didn't matter that much to him, after a while the food tasted like sawdust anyway, and Severus often found himself wrinkling his nose at the mere thought of it, and only ate out of obligation as to not make Albus suspect anything.

To anyone else, it wouldn't have mattered, this small problem of his, but to Albus, his only mentor and father figure it would matter. And he would be out of job the moment the old man found out, he even accepted to take Potter in as a way to sway Albus's suspicious away for some time, at least until the boy was seventeen... Half an hour later, he was still hearing Potter bustling about in the kitchen, some part of him wanted to go down and see what was the brat up to, but the bigger part warned him that the smell of food would still linger in there, and so he sat behind his desk, and only seethed inwardly.

The kitchen was a mess. Harry thought, after eating his fill, Harry put another plate out for Snape in a plastic container he had scrubbed clean earlier. And put it in the fridge, the food as always was delicious, and Harry even stored some extra shrimps for the man while wrapping it away. The short teen, then proceeded to wash the dishes and the sink.

He would've left the rest for tomorrow morning, but found himself not tired enough to go to bed, or energized enough to finish his homework. Harry got rid of his jumper and took out the cleaning equipment.

To everyone's bewilderment, Harry did not mind cleaning as long as he was paid in the end, at the Dursleys, he was normally rewarded with a small bird portion of his own food, every other day.

At the Weasleys, when he wasn't serving them as a punishment, he was later on rewarded with a plate of cookies that he shared with Ron later in his room. Technically, he wouldn't be paid for cleaning out Snape's kitchen, and didn't think of it as slavery, he would only clean /his/ kitchen, and /his/ room, because he lived in them. As easy as that, Snape could rot in the house all he wanted, but Harry refused to live in a dump.

After ten years of living in a filthy cupboard with spiders as his roommates, or living in Dudley's second bedroom for five years after that, Harry had been taught to be grateful for anything, but this house, even by Harry's standards, needed a /lot/ of work.

The furniture itself looked worn out but well kept, it was the grim and the whole dark aura thing that irritated Harry. Sure, he and Ron had imagined Snape sleeping in dungeons, or in a coffin, but to see his house looking like this...

Harry knew the professors at Hogwarts were well paid, and Snape was a potion master himself, which he had learned from Hermione that it was a wealthy and almost rare job. Snape could've afforded a house three times bigger than this in a good neighborhood easily. But he didn't. Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead and sat still for a second, the dusty rag was in his glove covered hands, and his hair was a little wet sticking to his face. There must have been a reason. Harry concluded, looking around the house.

Snape was either too lazy to clean up the mess, or he just didn't care. Harry frowned, but even so, a house elf could've done this in an hour. And debit that fact, the Spinner's end looked like a junkie hideout.

Harry sighed and shook his head, with a last gaze around the kitchen Harry resumed his work until his eyes were drooping. The teen checked his watch. He had waited for three hours for Snape to come up and eat his dinner. Now it was ten o cloak, and Harry was beat. There was no other option, Harry reasoned with himself and got the plastic container out of the fridge. He set the food on the newly cleaned table with a note, and left for the bathroom.

After a hot scalding shower the short boy made his way to his tiny bedroom and closed the door, his shoulders and neck ached and his fingers looked ready to fall off, tiredly he grabbed some clothes out of his trunk and fell on his bed with Hermione's quilt, with a groan.

He thanked merlin that at least the bed sheets smelled clean, and his pillow did not look out of sorts, otherwise he would've slept in his wardrobe. Hermione's mellow perfume filled his head as he wrapped the quilt around his shoulders before settling in.  
It was comforting, to have a piece of his friend, there with him after such an exhausting day. Harry snorted, he hadn't even seen Snape yet and he was this tired. Merlin help him. He only had 364 days to go to be seventeen. Not that long. Harry thought, trying to comfort himself.

Not long at all. He eventually drifted into an uneasy slumber. 


	3. Chapter 3 Leek omelette

Chapter three. Leek omelette (you're on)

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A/N; thanks for reviewing& following and adding this story to your favorite list. it is deeply appreciated ;) by the way Sirius is alive... you'll find out more later.

enjoy and leave a comment! even a sentence would do the job. (blows kiss)

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Harry slept restlessly for a few hours before he was jolted awake when a loud lighting struck. The boy jumped and looked over his side, squinting his eyes to see the rain pouring down furiously. He sighed and slumped back in his bed, staring at the ceiling with bleary eyes.

He felt like a prisoner already, in a room this small, even though it was bigger than his own. Grey walls, small window and a low roof, it made him feel chocked and claustrophobic. With the sound of rain landing on the roof, and his inability to go back to sleep, Harry knew that he was in for a night. He wondered vaguely, if he should send a letter to Remus. It's been a while, ever since the Department of mysteries fiasco, he hadn't talked much with the couple. With he and Sirius.

It was understandable, the man had almost died that night if it wasn't for Remus saving him the last moment, after the adrenalin died and they all got back to Hogwarts, Harry was berated, instead of reassured, yelled at, instead of hugged. Sirius should've been reassuring the teen that he was fine, and it was a false alarm. Instead the adults berated him for /not/ knowing the things he had no way of knowing. It was his fault at the end. Always his fault. So the Weasleys gave him the cold shoulder and Dumbledore continued to meddle in his life.

Sirius and Remus took off to dangerous missions all around the world, with a few letters here and there. Apparently, Sirius had realized, that Harry wasn't like his father at all. He was polite enough... Harry supposed, he and Remus did take their responsibilities seriously, but Harry felt it was more of an obligation than actually wanting to do it. It hurt. Knowing deep down, that uncle Vernon was right all those years ago, when he said that he would always be a burden and nobody could love him. The Dursleys were right and it hurt. He ignored the painful prodding in his chest and sighed.

Harry tossed and turned in his squeaky bed, and pulled the quilt closed around his frame. Snape ignoring him wouldn't be so bad, he tried to comfort himself. In fact, it would be better for Harry to live without having to stress over the verbal abuse, or Snape breathing down his neck all the time. But he already felt neglected, living in an empty house, a rundown house, all by himself, without any means of human contacts, unless he counted the old lady from the store. But still, it seemed so thoughtless of Dumbledore to put him here.

Like he did when I was a baby. He drawled in his mind.

All in all, Harry didn't give a rat's poop if Snape ignored him, it was all he did anyways, Harry had fully expected the man to act like the way he was acting right now.

But there was this one thing that bothered him. He had been auditioning for a cooking competition in London the moment he got back home, he had trained and built up his cooking skills, he had been /punished/ for often cooking the wrong meal, or playing with the recipes, he had suffered all summer before the Weasleys got him. All this misery for a competition, /the/ one he had been dreading for a while now.

With the Weasleys, it wouldn't have been a problem, they would've taken him in a heart beat... But would Snape do the same?

Harry worried his lip, he had to stay in the house for his own protection, and couldn't leave without a bodyguard. Would Snape take him there? It was important to Harry because it was /his/. His hobby, his talent, only his and no one else's, his future in a way, if he stayed alive long enough, that is but Cooking has always been his refuge, his way of life, his way of dealing with every shit that fate threw at him.

The teen sighed. The competition was still three weeks away, so he had plenty of time to brood over it, and on the bright side, he was actually better off with Snape in that aspect. He had the kitchen all to himself. And who was Snape to complain when Harry put food on his table for free? The short teenager shook his head, startled with his own thoughts.

Sleep Harry. You need to do your homework tomorrow morning. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to tune out the rain and the disturbing thoughts out of his mind.

He evened out his breathing, and cleared his mind, he then listed his favorite spices from bottom to the top, and then reversed. This method of relaxation was not as effective in locking out his visions, but sometimes helped him sleep.

It way better than Snape's cryptic, clear your mind, control your emotions thing, anyway... Harry didn't get to finish the thought as he eventually fell into a dreamless sleep. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Despite the late night, Harry woke up feeling oddly rested, and happy. The sun filtered through the window, hitting him right in the face, and Harry embraced it with open arms and a yawn.

He had no idea what the time was (there was no clock in his room), but judging by the sun, it should be early in the morning, Harry hoped off his bed and stretched. He was feeling pancakey today. He would kill for a good pancake covered in strawberry jam and some butter... He could already feel the itch of sugar down in his growling belly.

He chuckled at his stomach and headed to the bathroom, after exploring the house yesterday, Harry come to realize that Snape was definitely a book worm. What other person keeps books in his bathroom? Near the bathtub nonetheless? He thought it odd, the only person he had known as a book fanatic was Hermione, and he didn't know if she kept books in her bathroom. Harry tried to be quiet on his trip to the other side of the Hallway, knowing that Snape was probably asleep. But alas, the floorboards squeaked with /every/ step. Harry cringed and painstakingly made his way to the bathroom.

The door opened with a loud shriek and Harry winced. The hinges definitely needed grease. Definitely.

The pressure and his cranky attitude last night, must have been a big factor in his judgment of the house, because the bathroom actually looked decent. And very clean. The hot water was blissful and Harry loved the herby smell of the soap. After a heavenly shower the small boy wrapped himself up in a towel and crossed the hallway again.

He passed momentarily by Snape's door, listening if the man was awake or not. Today would be their first encounter and Harry did not want to make a bad impression. He also wanted to see the man's reaction to his hand in cooking and Harry working his arse off in the kitchen last night. As promised earlier, Harry went through the fridge and the cabinets only to realize that there was no flour in the house. He whimpered, looking through the cupboards again, he really wanted some pancake for breakfast...

Sighing in defeat, Harry reasoned that he cannot be ruled by his cravings forever, so he put on his sweatshirt and jogged out of the house, guilty running all the way to the store. In his haste he even forgot to put s note on the table and he also forgot to close the door.

Meh, Snape would do it anyway.. He thought. Unlike the bathroom, Spinner's end looked exactly the way it did last night in the fog. Houses were mostly deserted, and the streets were rather narrow, he could smell something that eerily reminded him of chemicals and sewers, and there was no signs of nosey neighbors.

Harry did get ten houses away before his enthusiastic pace came to a halt. That was the problem with charged up mornings. Harry realized. He would be slow. He had totally forgotten about Pomfrey's sugar level test he had tomorrow, with a muggle it wouldn't have been a problem, but with magic, She would know. Harry cursed, groaning loudly, he could almost taste the strawberry jam in his mouth, melting on the pancakes, mixed with butter...

Before he could torture himself any farther, Harry turned and stomped back to Snape's porch, that stupid hag! He cursed. He hadn't had a decent desert in almost a week! A whole week! What was the point in gaining weight when he wasn't allowed to eat whatever he wanted?!

Harry yanked the gate forcefully and dragged his feet back to the house, exactly the way he had left it. At this rate, he wondered if Snape even lived here in the house. Harry shrugged, and took off his sweater. Now that the pancake was off his eating charts, he had to do with simple eggs. He forgot to buy bacon. He narrowed his eyes, another reason why he hated rushed shopping, he always forgot what to buy in his rush and excitement. Shaking his head, the young teen reentered the kitchen, his eyes falling onto the untouched container resting on the table.

Harry frowned. Snape hadn't eaten his food? Even the note was untouched... Harry came closer and picked up the food. It was exactly the way he had put it. Why? He figured that Snape had a late night, but the man must have been hungry locked in his labs all day. Wasn't he?

Or... Maybe he had just ignored your kind gesture and had cooked for himself. Harry bristled, and walked to the fridge, his eyes inspecting the ingredients, looking for missing portions or leftovers. He slammed it shut. Nothing.

Either he hadn't eaten any dinner last night, or had food with him in the lab. The man hadn't come up for lunch. Harry knew that much, and he had skipped dinner.. What else could it be? Takeout. His mind whispered, and Harry pursed his lips. With a regrettable sigh he went over to the cupboard under the sink and opened it, he opened the bin's lid and looked inside.

What has your life come to Potter? Checking out Snape's trash?! Just to see if he was mocking you by passing on the meal?

Harry brushed off the voice and stuck his head in the cupboard, his glasses skew, examining the contents. Nothing here either.

Harry stretched his back and huffed. If Snape was going to starve himself just to ignore Harry's cooking to make a point, then he was free to do so. The man hadn't even bothered with breakfast this morning! Harry opened the fridge again and took out some eggs and left over leeks. If he couldn't have pancakes, then he would spoil himself, (And Snape) with an omelette. He got out the cutting board out of the sink and started cutting the leeks.

If Snape was going to sneer and smirk all high and mighty on his cooking, then fine! But Harry would prove his point first. He just /had/ to figure out if the man had a secret stash in his room or the labs, he had this nagging voice at the back of his mind, a voice telling him that he just had to know. He already had the plan formed in his head, he would bring the man's breakfast to him if he was going to run away from it.

Harry savagely mixed the eggs with the chopped leeks, and emptied the bowl in the pan, still brooding over his untouched food. He would just have to eat his own food for lunch, no problem there though.. Harry loved shrimp and pasta, in fact, he would just have to fish out a quick sauce to go with it, and eat it all in front of Snape.

The man wasn't bound to stay locked in his office forever. As the skillet sizzled, Harry added some cheese and got out two plates (he had scrubbed them all clean last night) with utensils, he would have loved to use magic, but wasn't sure if he was free to do so. No point in risking it though, Snape was on a full bitter mode as it was.

His mind went over Snape's note vaguely. The man had mentioned something about not bothering him, but they had to meet eventually anyway, Snape couldn't hide from him forever. Harry wolfed down his breakfast quickly, anxious to get the food to Snape before it went cold. The omelet churned in his gut uncomfortably when he picked up the tray and headed down to the basement. Where he assumed the labs would be.

Unlike the living room and upstairs, the basement also looked clean enough, it even had a lamp. The Gryffindor readjusted the tray in his hands and fixed his skewed over glasses.

This was insane, he thought. It was totally out of his business to see if Snape had eaten or not, but he needed the man to admit that he had done it out of mockery so Harry could prove him wrong. He didn't even know why. Maybe it was the similarity between brewing potions and cooking that agitated him.

Harry cleared his throat and knocked on the carved out door. He knocked again when there was no response. The man couldn't be out, could he? Harry was pretty sure Snape's room was empty, and no sound came from the bathroom.

Sighing in annoyance, Harry scowled and tried the knob. It was locked. Harry scoffed and huffed, yanking at the knob harder. The door didn't even budge. He has an advantage. Harry realized. The man had magic, and Harry didn't. He could've even ordered food for himself via house elf or conjured up some food out of nowhere...

Angrily he set the tray down and tried the door for the last time.

"Well played you git." he muttered, and turned away, not sparing another glance over his shoulder. He would /not/ waste any ingredients over the man if he wasn't going to eat them. Harry thought savagely, slamming the door close. He marched up to his trunk and got out his unfinished transfiguration essay.

Damn him anyway. He thought.

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Severus knew that he would regret letting Potter in his house the moment he stepped into his porch. He growled and pulled his blanket over his head.

His face screwed in a glare with every cringing step the boy took in his hallway. It was as if the brat was stepping on each and every one of the creaky floorboard on purpose! Just like James Potter, Potter must have thought it funny to wake Severus with his nuisance...

Severus would show him as well when they arrived at Hogwarts. The boy would be in detention until he graduated for waking Severus in this ungodly hour. After Potter yanked the bathroom door open, Severus couldn't take it anymore.

He threw the covers aside, and jumped out of his bed. The brat closed the door with the same agonizingly slow pace, and Severus winced, gritting his teeth. He would not yell at Potter this morning. He repeated in his mind. He would not yell at Potter.

With a exasperated face, the bitter Professor got up and dressed. Trust Potter to ruin the exact day he was going to sleep in... He shook his head in disgust and slipped out of his room.

Morning routines weren't much of a thing to Severus Snape. Unless he was in Hogwarts and had to teach. In summers, the days were alway the same, he would get up at six, shower and then brew potions non-stop, until the dawn. Then he would read some book, take an unwilling dose of nutrients potion and then sleep in his bed like a corpse.

As a potion master, and a famous one at that, Severus received numerous requests every day, with eye bulging pays, being the youngest potion master in over two centuries, did have its perks after all. At first Snape only sneered and turned them down, he was a professor at Hogwarts and his salary was more than enough, since he only used it on ingredients. But in summers like this, when he had nothing to do, but to restock the infirmary (which he had already finished) he had to keep busy somehow.

Books weren't enough, with or without nutrients potions, reading was difficult when he was feeling dizzy often, normally he would adapt himself to food a week before he went back to school so he wouldn't raise suspicious. And would have a bite or two at the feast to satisfy his mentor. The rest was easy, he would say that he taken his meals in his quarters, and then eat if absolutely necessary on occasion.

The man headed downstairs and passed the kitchen without a second glance, he knew that he should probably survey the damage Potter had inflicted on his house, but really wasn't in the mood and frankly, not able to confront Potter without a dose of headache potion first.

The brat would he down soon enough. The man jeered. The thought of sharing a bathroom with Potter seemed even more horrifying and more realistic now that he actually heard the boy singing in the shower. Severus grounded his teeth and slammed his lab's door shut, he would need to concentrate for today's project and he couldn't stand the insolent brat singing away with that chicken scratched voice of his that had just hit puberty.

After casting a silencing and a locking charm on his labs and office the man sighed in bliss and headed to his ingredients cupboard with a slight smirk.

"Bliss." he muttered as he waited for the water to boil in his cauldron. If he was lucky, he could even avoid Potter long enough until the boy whined and complained like an arrogant brat he was. At least until one of the Weasley broods came and got him again, he knew for a fact that the mutt or Lupin wouldn't.

Seeing their friend's son, turning into a boy they hadn't expected to see had unsettled them enough that they ignored the brat like the plague.

Sneering at their stupidity, the potion master worked his way through the list swiftly, potion after potion. Chop, stir, boil, crunch... He was so familiar with the process that he could do it with his eyes closed.

He remained in his relaxed state until he heard a knock on his door. Scowling, the man put a statis spell over the cauldron and stood behind his door with crossed arms. It couldn't be Albus. The man saw right through his spells, so it would have to be Potter.  
He might be unwilling to admit it, but the momentarily step from the foaming cauldron had Severus actually grateful that the brat decided to come down.

The knocking continued and Snape waited impatiently for the brat to leave. However, the golden boy grasped the knob, and started yanking at the door as if he intended to break it. Severus gritted his teeth, and swore that if Potter wasn't gone in ten seconds, he would put him in a body bind and leave him there all summer. He smirked devilishly, that did not sound like a bad idea at all. He would have to try it out someday...

Potter might have just read his thoughts, there was a slight shuffling in the entryway, Potter gave the last tug at the door before cursing loudly.

"Well played you git." the boy who lived whispered and stopped his unsuccessful attempts to break his door down. Severus honestly couldn't take the smirk off his face. It was as if the brat was providing him with excuses for detention with every second he spent in his house. He would be sure to deduce point, for breaking his rules /and/ for calling his Professor and guardian a git.

After some nagging, Severus finished stocking his potions in vials and went over to his door. Ever since the brat left, he wanted to see what he had left behind that door. He had resisted it an whole hour before he charged to the door and yanked it open. With an embarrassed thud he fell to the ground and realized that the door was still locked. Blushing furiously the man stood and flicked his wand.

There laid on the ground, his mother's favorite red tray with a plate of omelette on it. Severus scrunched his nose and picked up the tray. The plate had gone cold, long since Potter had left, it seemed like omelette with some leeks in it.

The potion master narrowed his eyes and flicked his wand, banishing the whole mess before the smell could hit him. What was Potter thinking? That this was some kind of joke?! Leaving food by his door? Honestly, did that boy even have a brain in his sugar coated mind? Severus sneered, looks like he had to confront Potter sooner than he thought, he would.

Severus cast a refreshing spell on his basement and labs, welcoming the dusty scent and trudged back into his rooms, luckily, with no Potter in his sight. The brat must have been in his room sulking. Just as he was about to open his door a long green ribbon caught his eyes. Which was not hard at all, considering the factor that it was tied to his doorknob with a note. Snape rolled his eyes and snatched the note off the handle, the sneer forming on his face as he saw Potter's familiar spider scribbling.

You're on.

It wrote. With a smiley face at the end, he could practically /feel/ that smug grin Potter often wore, radiating from that cursed note. Infuriated with himself the potion master made a point to burn the damned parchment with his wand and slam his door loud enough for Potter to hear.

This was going to be a long two years indeed.

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A/N: thoughts? criticism? tell me what you think ;)


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